


Pianist's Fingers

by dearestones (Devin_Trinidad)



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff, M/M, actually please do tell him that, he does but don't tell him that, he might relax if you do, reader gives lucifer hand massage, reader thinks Lucifer works too hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29265762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devin_Trinidad/pseuds/dearestones
Summary: As you spoke, your gaze had faltered and you had ended up looking down at the ground instead of looking straight into his eyes.“You’re writing so much… how come your hand hasn’t started cramping?”You kept your head down. You were waiting for him to say something—something judgmental perhaps. However, you were more than surprised when Lucifer said nothing. Glancing up, you saw him stare at you, confusion and… was that fondness? in his eyes.“Are you worried about me?”
Relationships: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Main Character, Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 139





	Pianist's Fingers

“I know that there’s something wrong, so you might as well just tell me.” 

Lucifer’s voice, always so commanding and arrogant, burst through your thoughts like a balloon making love to a pin. Jumping up, you barely managed to not squeal, but judging from Lucifer’s poorly hidden grin, you were not able to conceal your sudden surprise. 

Carefully, you tried to smooth your features back into a mask of calm, but it was already a godforsaken cause. What Lucifer saw, he was probably going to use against you in the future. Still, you tried to look confident and calm as you sat back against your chair in Lucifer’s office.

“What do you mean? I was just thinking about a new essay I had to write.”

He raised a carefully sculpted brow. 

As he leaned his head against the flat of his palm, he asked, butter smooth and oh so smugly, “Oh? And what class is this essay for?”

Your breath caught and it took everything inside of you to not blurt out the truth then and there. Sending a silent prayer to his Father (or to any other deity that happened to be listening), you hoped that Lucifer didn’t have access to whatever assignments you had due that week. (You were more than likely screwed no matter how you answered, but you hoped that this lie would somehow warrant an easy punishment). 

“Oh, er—Devildom Law! Turns out that there’s this whole sub-clause thing that—“

He waved a hand. Although you would have liked to continue your excuses, you knew that his punishments were doled out with far more mercy if you stopped before digging a deeper hole for yourself. (It also helped that you weren’t the Avatar of Greed). So, like a docile little human, you merely closed your mouth and kept your hands flat on the arms of your chair. 

For a moment, his dark eyes, almost blooded under the dim lighting that he entertained in his office, studied you. Was he looking into your soul? Was he reading your mind? There were many things about demons that you had become accustomed to while in Devildom, but you weren’t all too sure if Lucifer had powers of the omniscience. 

It would explain a lot, though. 

“You’ve been staring at my paperwork for a while now,” he murmured. “Are you trying to steal information regarding the school activities of RAD?”

You stifled a laugh. The idea sounded so preposterous enough already, but the fact that he said it with such a straight face nearly sent you into fits of hysteria. 

“Would you call it a day if I said that I was staring into space and daydreaming?”

He gave the look that had silenced higher beings for less.

Despite your familiarity with him, you still shuddered and clung to the sides of your chair in the hopes that you didn’t spontaneously combust from that gaze alone. 

“Okay! Okay!” You crossed your arms in front of your chest and hoped that your face wasn’t burning as brightly as you felt it was. “I was just worried about you, is all.”

As you spoke, your gaze had faltered and you had ended up looking down at the ground instead of looking straight into his eyes. 

“You’re writing so much… how come your hand hasn’t started cramping?”

You kept your head down. You were waiting for him to say something—something judgmental perhaps. However, you were more than surprised when Lucifer said nothing. Glancing up, you saw him stare at you, confusion and… was that fondness? in his eyes. 

“Are you worried about me?”

You didn’t dare hold his gaze. 

“Look, does your hand cramp or not?”

His next few words were said in a low, salty murmur. It was the sort of voice that would have melted you instantly if it were not for your embarrassed state of mind. 

“And what would you do if I said yes?”

You bit your lip. 

“I’d probably offer to massage it.” You took a deep breath and moved away from your chair, careful to keep your eyes trained away from Lucifer at all costs. “Anyway, it’s stupid, so I’ll just go so I won’t bother you anymore.”

“And who said that you were bothering me?”

“Er…” You turned around to see that while he was still seated behind his desk, his overall commanding presence made it seem as if he were already towering above you. Cowed by such an oppressive presence, you muttered, “Aren’t you bothered?”

Lucifer’s overwhelming aura dialed back a few notches as he allowed the corner of his lips to quirk up. 

“Come, impress me by massaging my hands.”

Did… did he have to make it sound as sexual as he did?

Regardless of what you thought, you found yourself standing at his side and carefully clasping his dominant hand in both of your own. The supple leather of the gloves were heavenly agains your fingers, but in order for this to work, you needed to peel them off. 

“Is it okay if I—“ You motioned towards the glove to which Lucifer nodded. 

Gently, you peeled the glove and began to marvel at his hand. Deep red nail polish enhanced his nails while spidery veins ran up and down the structure of his hand. They were strong, long and so beautiful. They were a pianist’s fingers—briefly, you wondered if he could play. 

You took in his hand, savoring the moment to see the paleness of his skin stand out in stark contrast to the darkness of his office. Without the glove, without his protection that left him vulnerable, he was beautiful.

You said none of that, of course. 

Gently, but with a firmness that came from experience, you began to work his joints and massage his palm. As you did so, you noticed that Lucifer’s posture, always picture perfect and rigid, had somewhat loosened. He still retained the composure of that of a serious academic, but to know that he was practically melting at your touch…

You didn’t dwell too long on that notion. 

For far too short a time (time that still felt like it stretched for centuries), you worked his fingers and his hand until there was nothing more that you could do. When you finished, you tucked his hand back into his glove and then looked to Lucifer for silent permission to leave.

However, he merely held out his left hand for you to take.

“Can’t leave the other one unattended, can we?” 

You couldn’t help but smile at that. 

“No, that would be inconsiderate of me.”


End file.
